


All That We Are

by LiliBunny



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Was Raphael Before Falling (Good Omens), Fluff, Hurt Crowley, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-21
Updated: 2020-01-21
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22344928
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiliBunny/pseuds/LiliBunny
Summary: "You were an angel once""That was a long time ago.."(still working on summary, sorry--)
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Kudos: 29





	All That We Are

**Author's Note:**

> This is something new, trying it out. :) Got some good ideas to play around with.

He felt it first, the force pushing him to his knees in ultimate submission and obedience. Satan was coming. The Demon felt himself panic; this was it. They were really fucked. His face pressed to the ground with his belly—humiliation of what he truly was ringing in his ears, bowing to his upcoming master.

Rumbling shook beneath him as Crowley tried to force himself up, maintain some dignity to brace himself.

“Right. That was that. It was nice knowing you.” He looked to Aziraphale defeated, trying to get in his last words before his true end. Over six thousand years, he’d never truly gotten to apologize properly. Enjoy another meal at the Ritz, drunken nights at the ol’ bookshop—nothing.

Aziraphale looked down upon him in panic, ever trying to keep positive. “We can’t give up now.”

The demon shook his head as he struggled to maintain his posture on his knees, pale skin covered in dirt from the wet ground. “This is Satan himself. This isn’t about Armageddon. Thisss is personal.” He spat out with his serpent tongue. “We are FUCKED.”

Crowley watched the angel move to grab his sword, naturally falling to be an extension of his arm. The blonde spoke in a hurry, “Come up with something or…” They passed glances to each other, years upon years reflecting in each other’s eyes. All their history threatened by this moment. Looking up at him in anxiety as Aziraphale looked over the blade the demon wondered if he would die by his angel’s hand that was ready to swing. “or I’ll never talk to you again.” The blade lowered, the sheer look of fear echoed in the other’s face the redhead decided to give it all he had.

Reaching somewhere deep inside, the male growled throwing his arms up to the sky. To the heavens, to God, to the very universe he helped create commanding it to pause.

Gasping, Crowley’s yellow eyes widened staring at the gray paint of his walls. His chest heaving, he tried to recalculate prior events: he was at home, both him and Aziraphale cheated their respective death sentences, he took a nap. A nap, he sighed aloud dropping himself from his revolving door snapping his fingers changing himself from his black silk pajamas to his usual attire.

Blinking slowly he felt the sharp pain behind his eyes, memories refusing to fade.

_“Your eyes so full of wonder, imaginative, and curious.” She spoke, her voice so soothing. Calm, the sound of music to his ears. “My dear sweet Raph-.”_

_The sickening smell of sulfur hitting his nose of ancient memory slamming full to his nostrils._

Shaking his head with scrunched brows he decided it was time for a stroll. Yeah, something to take the mind off well, the mind. Crowley needed a different smell--therapeutic, one of old books and hot tea with open arms.


End file.
